Beneath the Strings of Time
by three-legs-stella
Summary: Seven years after the end of the film, Anouk is now sixteen. She has to face the reality of becoming a woman, the facts of life, love and spirituality and the arrival of an old friend. [Chapter THREE up...reviews appreciated. Rating may change...not sure.
1. Squeaking Hinges

**DISCLAIMER: **_Yes, boring but obligatory. I don't own Chocolat the film nor the wonderful book by Joanne Harris. The closest I'll get to owning the book is the copy that sits on my desk now. I do however own the character of Theodore and any others that may appear along the way. I'll be sure to tell you who they are when they spring forth onto the page...or computer screen._

**Author's Note:** _Now, this is a mix of the book and the film so don't kill me if the details aren't the same as in the film because some things were changed in the transition from page to screen. However, if I have any HUGE details wrong please tell me - it'll save embarassment for all involved. Enjoy! Reviews appreciated as always. _

CHAPTER ONE

_Squeaking Hinges, Ganache Peaks and Hasty Decisions. _

The wind blew Anouk's flushed cheeks as she stared out onto the small village of Lasquenet-sout-Tannes. Young children ran through the streets with hula-hoops and different toys to keep them occupied for the long summer afternoon. Anouk could hear the soft sound of her mother downstairs creating various delicacies to place in the shop window, enticing the villagers to enter the warmth and comfort of the Chocolaterie.

Anouk, now being just shy of sixteen, had been in Lasquenet longer than she would have ever imagined. The _Comte_, once harsh and cynical toward her mother's small shop, had reformed his opinion and become and somewhat regular patron to the Chocolaterie, even staying for some time to speak to Vianne over a steaming cup of _chocolat-chaud_ and a fresh batch of _Mendiants_.

After the inspiring sermon young _Pere_ Henri had delivered but seven years ago, the young Pastor had relocated to another parish, perhaps because he never really fitted in with the village with his fondness for American music.

Joséphine had continued with her _Café Armande_ and found business to be better than it had ever been during the summer with an array of colorful tourists and late nights. Anouk remembered when Joséphine had been looked at as an outcast, 'waltzing to her own tune' as one of the villagers had so tactfully put it, but now she was viewed with admiration. It was strange how people's opinions changed when they find out that someone has an abusive husband.

Once again, the soft sound of her mother working woke Anouk from her reverie. The soft and sweet smell of melting chocolate wafted from the kitchen into Anouk's room on the top level of the Patisserie. Anouk shut her eyes and savored the smell. The scent of chocolate always seemed to ease her mind.

Anouk heard her name being called from downstairs. Turning away from the open window, she sighed and quickly paced down the staircase and turned into the kitchen.

Vianne smiled at her daughter, her face dusted softly with brown cocoa powder. The sight of her mother at work always seemed to make Anouk smile. Vianne had her brown hair tied neatly behind her ears in a red headscarf, a few stray tendrils falling in front of her face as she tested her ganache.

'Yes, _Maman_?' Anouk inquired as she appeared at the door, walking further toward her mother.

'Anouk, darling,' Vianne began, looking up from her tray of ganache peaks. 'Could you please run down to Josephine and borrow some eggs? I seem to be running short.'

Anouk nodded briskly and quickly dipped her finger in the bowl of ganache, stealing a small amount and placing it in her mouth before her mother could protest. Vianne just shook her head playfully at her daughter and went back to her work.

Anouk jogged out of the kitchen a fetched her read cloak from the hook on the wall and draped it around her shoulders, walking to the door and opening it. The hinges still squeaked.

The hinges had been squeaking for some time. Roux had not returned as he had promised when he had last left them and he had never left Anouk's mind. Each time the wind changed she found herself subconsciously looking to the river for one of the riverboats to float by, but they never came. Her mother had been heartbroken when Roux had not returned. He was the one man who had offered her comfort when the whole town had been against her small shop. Roux had almost been a father figure toward Anouk, spending long afternoons playing with her and Pantoufle by the river, but those afternoons had faded as had Pantoufle and his bad leg.

As Anouk walked through the town she realised how much it had changed. Guillame Bleirot and his dog Charly had long since passed and now watched over the town from above. Anouk dodged an awry hula-hoop as it spun through the square. A young boy muttered a quiet apology and Anouk smiled kindly back at him, remembering the times when she had played down by the river with Luc Clairmont and his friends. They would spend the entire afternoon skipping rocks across the glassy surface of the Tannes. The thought caused Anouk to smile.

Before she knew it, Anouk had arrived outside _Café Armande_. She could see Josephine busily working behind the counter serving drinks to customers. Anouk opened the door and walked in, the scent of so many different types of liquor and coffee filled her nose with a comforting smell. As she walked up to the counter, Anouk caught Josephine's eye with a smile.

'Anouk,' Josephine said in greeting as she poured the crème on top of a cup of steaming coffee. 'How good it is to see you.'

Anouk smiled and once again savored the scent of the drink Josephine was preparing. Josephine passed the coffee to a thankful customer in return for four francs.

'What brings you here?' Josephine asked and she placed the money away. She turned back to Anouk and reached for another glass.

'_Maman_ is running short on eggs. She was wondering if she could borrow some.' Anouk replied, pushing the hood of her red coat back from her face, allowing her hair to fall free.

'Ah.' Josephine bent down and rummaged through the cupboards below the counter. She resurfaced momentarily with a basket of what looked to be about two-dozen eggs.

'Thankyou.' Anouk replied and took the basket as Josephine turned back to another wanting customer.

Anouk slung the basket over her arm and walked briskly out of the café. Once home, Anouk opened the door and placed the eggs on the counter, hanging her red coat on the hook by the door.

'Anouk!' her mother called from in the kitchen. 'Did you bring me my eggs?'

'Yes, Maman.' Anouk called back as she picked up the eggs and made her way to her mother. 'Here they are.'

'Thankyou, _Mon Cherie_.' Vianne kissed her daughter's cheek and placed the eggs aside, still working on her ganache peaks, except now they actually looked like the nipples of Venus as oppose to lumps of unformed clay.

'Is there anything I can do?' Anouk inquired, admiring the chocolate from afar, her hands clenched firmly behind her back to stop herself from giving in to temptation.

Vianne looked up from her work once more, her hair falling in front of her eyes, looking out the door of the kitchen for a moment. 'I think I hear some people in the shop. Could you tend to them, please?'

Anouk obliged and hurried out of the kitchen and away from the temptation of the sweet chocolate. Anouk arrived behind the counter, and, true enough, there was someone there.

'_Bonjour_.' Anouk greeted the customer with a smile, but the smile went unnoticed because the patron had their back turned. 'May I help you?'

The customer turned around and faced Anouk. He was a young man, around the same age as Anouk herself. He smiled kindly and walked toward her. He wore a pair of black pants and what seemed to be a white dress shirt. He possessed a head of shoulder-length brown hair. The young man smiled at Anouk as he stopped at the counter.

He was young, perhaps around her own age. He was handsome for someone that young, if it was possible to be good-looking at the age of fifteen.

'Yes, actually.' He looked curiously at the various Mayan artifacts on the walls and the chocolate displayed in the glass cabinets. 'But first, what is your name?'

'Anouk.' Anouk smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but her words were drowned out as her mother began pounding cocoa. She let the noise pass and spoke. 'And what is yours?'

'Theodore.' Theodore brushed some hair from his eyes and looked around once more. 'What kind of shop is this?'

'It's a _Chocolaterie, _my mother and I have been here for years.' Anouk paused, gesturing to the array of chocolates around her. 'Can I interest you in anything?'

'Not at the moment.' Theodore replied, though he did look tempted to take some of the sweets before him. 'But you _can_ help me with something.'

'Yes…'

'Well, my parents and I have just moved here. Father is the new minister at the church, we are living in the Manse down by the Tannes. _Any_way,' Theodore continued, sighing heavily 'mother sent me on an errand to find some milk, do you know where I can find some?'

'Oh, I didn't know we were in need of a new minister.' Anouk shrugged inwardly. 'Well, there is a small general store on the other side of the square. Do you know where _Café Armande_ is?'

Theodore nodded and Anouk proceeded. 'Well, it's three shops down from there, next to the bakers, I think.'

Theodore smiled in gratitude and walked towards the door. 'Thankyou.' He replied. 'I'll be sure to come back for some chocolate later.'

* * *

'_Maman_.' Anouk said as she and her mother began preparing a chocolate cake. 'Why has Roux not come back to us?'

As soon as the question reached her mother's ears, Anouk wished she could snatch her words back up and place them into her mouth, but that was sadly not possible. Why had she even asked that question? She was thinking it, but was not sure what had caused her to think it. Alas, it was said and now she would await Vianne's answer.

'I am not sure, Anouk, I am not sure at all.' Sadness filled Vianne's eyes, but she continued to busy herself by whisking the chocolate mixture together. At this time it seemed not even chocolate could soothe the woes of Anouk's mother.

'He promised me.' Anouk's voice was laced with pain and grief. 'He promised me that when he came back to us he would take me on grand adventures. He promised that he would be there forever and never leave…why did he hurt us, _Maman_, _why_?'

'I don't know.' Vianne replied once more. 'I am holding onto the hope that he may come back to us one day, no matter how far away that day is.'

* * *

As much as Anouk wished for her mother's words to fill her with hope, they did not. Instead, they made her feel sad…she wished for the wind to blow and for the gypsy boats to float in on the Tannes. She wished for Roux and her mother to be reunited and above all she wished for Roux to take her on the adventures that he had promised her so many years ago.

'_Roux_!' the voice invaded the gypsy's dreams. The voice had been present each night for many, many months. Each time it grew stronger, more…real, as if someone was calling his name right next to him. '_Roux_!' The voice once again called his name.

Roux shot up and rubbed his temples. Why did these night terrors haunt him so? Could they not find another person's dreams to invade? The answer of course was "No.". As much as Roux disliked the night-voice there was something comforting and familiar about the sound. He was sure he had heard the voice before, but where he did not know. For many moments the gypsy sat, trying his best to think of where he had heard that same sound, then it came to him.

_Vianne. _

He had thought of Vianne each and every day since he had left them five years ago. Vianne and Anouk had not left his mind at all. Roux felt endlessly guilty for leaving them the way he had. The only reason he had gone was because he had heard of a travelling fair in London full of wealthy opportunities for gypsies like himself. He had promised Vianne that he would return and stay with her, never to move again. But he had not fulfilled his promise and Vianne had most likely found another man to take his place. Alas, he was determined to find his way back to them- all he had to do was wait for the wind to come and take him on his way.

Perhaps he should leave tomorrow, or even the next day. Why had he not gone back to them in the first place? Why had he stayed in London so long? He was now settled, or as settled as a gypsy could be in one place. He had continued his wayfaring life, travelling around England, Ireland and Scotland. But the thing that shamed him the most was the fact that as much as he had thought about Vianne, she had not been the only woman on his mind.

Over the years of his travels, Roux had run into many women for nights between yellowing sheets. All of them had meant nothing to him, but he still felt ashamed that if he ever did see Vianne again he would indeed have to tell her of the women he had spent evenings with whether she asked about them or not.

That was it. Roux stood up and looked around the room he was in. He owned a new riverboat, but only used it for transportation rather than accommodation because it lacked the necessities for sleep and comfort, so Roux was now staying in a small Inn on the outskirts of Hastings. All he had to do was cross the channel and find his was to the Tannes and finally to Lasquenet and back to Vianne and Anouk.

But would they want him back? He doubted it. He had made a promise and broken it. If Roux were them he would not take himself back. Oh well, the only way to find out would be to go and if he was rejected so be it.

The gypsy looked around him and found someone next to him on the bed. He sighed. Roux had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had forgotten the woman beside him. She sat up, her chest bare and her almost white-blonde locks tumbling over her shoulders. She looked at Roux and rubbed his back.

'Are you all right?' she asked, her voice was laced with a foreign accent. German perhaps? Roux was not sure.

Despite himself, Roux found that he was actually enjoying her hand on his back. He looked over at her, remembering her name. Lucky. He often never remembered their names. 'Yes, Ulla, I'm fine…just a little tired.'

'Aaah,' Ulla played a small smile on her lips. 'Did Ulla wear you out last night?'

Yes, it was definitely German. Her English was broken, but still understandable. Roux decided to play along with the game. 'Yes, Ulla did wear me out last night.' He replied, laying back down on the bed and closing his eyes.

Ulla stroked his bare chest and lay down beside him. Roux hated it when they did this. All he wanted to do was leave her and get on his riverboat and sail back to Lasquenet. He loved it there. The time he had spent on the Tannes had been extremely pleasant, despite the efforts of Reynaud to _"Boycott Immorality". _There was nothing immoral to Roux's way of life…well perhaps lying with nameless women was immoral, but other than that Roux was somewhere near having values.

Roux sat up once more, despite Ulla's objections and made his way to the end of the bed, picking up his crumpled clothes and placing them back on. He could not remember how they got there, but obviously in the heat of passion all clothes are forgotten.

'Where are you going?' Ulla inquired, she too sitting up.

Roux tossed Ulla her clothes and made for the door. He stopped and turned around to face the woman. 'It was lovely meeting you Ulla, but I really need to leave.'

He walked out of the door before she could protest. The inn was only small. Roux walked down the wooden staircase and left a few silver coins on the bar table for the price of the room. The barman thanked him with a smile and slight nod of the head and Roux continued out of the inn.

The inn was right on the water. Roux squinted against the sun and saw his riverboat. It would have to be his most prized possession above all things he owned, which was not an extreme amount of objects. The boat was small, but enough for just one person. It contained a mattress, sink and an antique wooden chest full of clothes and other mismatched belongings – each of them dear to his heart.

He knew in his heart that this was a more than hasty decision. He knew he would probably be slapped in the face as soon as he entered the door. Anouk, however old she was now, would never forgive him for leaving her and the town would probably cast suspicious eyes upon him once more.

Jumping onto the deck of the boat, he untied it from the old tree he had been using in place of a wharf. It was much cheaper than having to pay for the use of the dock and it was just as good. As he felt the wind brush past his now longer hair, her smiled and thought of the door he had long since fixed. He wondered if it still squeaked…

**Authors Note:** _Yes, another one. Thanks for reading this far - however painful it was. Hope you enjoyed it. I would like atleast 4-5 reviews to post the next chapter. I don't want to keep going if no-one is going to read it.  
Cheers.  
xxx_


	2. I see the door still squeaks

CHAPTER TWO

_"I see the door still squeaks"._

_Squeak._

The man moved the door from side to side as Anouk watched him with suspicious eyes. He looked at her before raising a hand to his mouth and picking something from his teeth. Disgusted, Anouk watched on as he inspected the left over food before flicking it off his finger and out the door.

'Well, whoever fixed this last didn't do a very good job.' The man said nonchalantly, once again swinging the door open and shut.

Anouk crossed her arms over her chest. 'Is that so?' she pondered an eyebrow raised, studying the man. 'How much will it cost to fix?'

'One-hundred francs.'

'No less?'

'No.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'Well,' Anouk said, uncrossing her arms. 'Unfortunately my mother and I don't have that kind of money. I'm sure there's many people around here who will do us a charitable favour.' With that, the young woman left him at the door and went behind the counter, leaving the man to his own devices – devices that he used to leave the store as quickly as possible.

Anouk tapped her fingers on the counter matching them with the beat of the music that floated through the open door. She smiled as the sound rose to an awesome crescendo and slowly came back down again. The sound of accordions, flutes, violins and wayward percussion provided a kaleidoscope of sound, each note and lilt completely different to the one before it. But where was the music coming from? Anouk realised that she had been so engrossed in the sound that she had not bothered to question the origins of the music. It could not be too far away because it seemed rather loud. She could hear voices matching the music now. They were forming words – words in a foreign tongue she could not understand. Still, she tried to imagine their meanings by the emotion in the voices.

Quiet.

The music ended, but was suddenly started up again by the sound of a blues guitar. Closing her eyes, Anouk listened to the music. It was familiar tune – something she had heard before, but was not sure where. Closing her eyes, Anouk tried as hard as she could to project herself back to the place where she had heard the music, but all she saw was chocolate. Chocolate. That could have been anywhere and anytime. She had been surrounded by chocolate her whole life.

_Squeak. _

The door opened wide and in stepped someone. Looking up, Anouk saw her mother. Smiling at her, the young woman pushed the thoughts of music from her mind.

'Hello Maman.' Anouk greeted her mother with a smile. Had her mother heard the music as well?

'Anouk,' Vianne began, placing a bag of apples on the counter in front of her daughter. 'You will not believe what I came across on my way back here.'

'What?'

'Gipsies.'

The boat hit the shore with a soft jolt. The sand sunk underneath it and the water hit the wooden sides gently. A man stepped off it, his jaw traced with about two weeks worth of light facial hair. With him the man carried a rope. He tied it quickly to the boat and then to a nearby tree on the shore. Looking up the riverbank, he noted that there were many other boats like his own. Near the boats he saw people mingling by small fires. Some were tuning instruments, others were setting up small stalls selling all manner of different things. He recognised these types of people at once.

Gipsies.

* * *

Walking away from his boat, the man stopped in front of another. There sat another man, a small blade in one hand and a mirror in the other. He shaved the last of the hair from his jawline and looked up at the fellow.

'Yes?' the man asked, placing his razor into his pocket.

'Might I borrow that?' the stranger asked, a tinge of Ireland in his voice.

'Certainly, friend, but I shall need to know your name.'

'It's Roux.' He replied, as the man handed him his razor. 'And what is yours?'

'Xavier.'

'Pleased to meet you, friend.' Roux said as he sat down and, taking the mirror, he traced his jaw with the blade.

Roux looked at himself in the mirror. He did not look too different. His face had not aged overmuch and his hair was still the same length. His skin had grown more tanned over the missing years and now had a healthy olive glow. Around his neck a few trinkets had been added ranging from a crocodile tooth to a small silver coin – each of them having their own special and unique story.

Roux watched as his companion stood up and walked away. He was not phased by it and continued to trace the line of his jaw carefully. Once finished, he washed off the blade and placed it, and the mirror, where it had been sitting with its owner.

Jumping aboard his boat, Roux reached for his guitar and brought it with him as he disembarked. Sitting where he had before, he looked out onto the water and began to tune it. The poor instrument had become somewhat neglected. So he sat, strumming chords just to check they still sounded as they should. Most of them did with the exception of a few. Promptly adjusting the strings, Roux began to play a basic and well-known melody as he heard it float over the sky, following the path of the wind.

* * *

Anouk felt her heart beating fast. She had pretty much flown out of the shop as soon as her mother had said the word _gipsies_. In fact, she was already half way out the door when he mother had mentioned her name. She had not grasped her red overcoat, which she was cursing herself for as the cold air whipped her rosy cheeks, she had not said goodbye to her mother and she had not even thought of where she was running. Her mother had not said where the gipsies were, but Anouk had an idea of where they probably had parked themselves.

She could hear the sound of the guitar closer now. It changed keys to a faster, happier tune as if the person playing it could not contain their emotions and let them flow from their fingers out onto the strings of the guitar. They played with such freedom and grace. The passion was unmistakable and Anouk felt her heart take flight with the music whilst she ran. She found her feet hitting the ground in time with beat of the unknown song. Suddenly, a violin was added to the mix. It complemented the guitar perfectly as if they were one in the same. She felt like dancing – letting go of whatever held her down. Instead, she ran down to the river.

Halting to a stop, she almost ran into a man. She had not recognised him before, but she did not have time to think about it. The river was in sight.

Anouk watched as a group of children danced in a circle, their dirty faces smiling as they sang to the music in the high-pitched voices that they accustomed for children. Anouk found herself smiling uncontrollably. She looked for the source of the music and found a man playing the violin as he moved to his tune. His long brown hair was tied in a ponytail and he seemed to be speaking cheerily to another man as he played.

Anouk turned her gaze to the other man. He sat with a guitar straddled across his lap. His hair was too tied back from his face, with a few loose honey-colour strands hanging in front of his eyes. His head was down and Anouk could not make out his face. He wore a tie loosely around his neck. Suddenly the man looked up to speak to his partner in music.

Anouk saw his face a gasped.

* * *

Roux finished playing and smiled, clapping his new friend as he placed away his violin. Roux placed his guitar next to him and looked around the group. His eyes wandered towards the town when he suddenly saw someone. Someone he recognised.

She was a young woman. Her dark brown hair cascaded around her shoulders. She wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She had the right kind of beauty a sixteen-year-old girl ought to have. She locked eyes with him and a look of recognition sparked on her face. Roux smiled at her and stood up.

It seemed as if time had stopped just for them. Roux walked toward her. For some reason he felt his heart beating hard against his chest. He tried to steady it by exhaling, but it did not work. He felt as if he may fall over. What if this wasn't Anouk? What if it was just a stranger? Roux refused to think of the consequence and finally, coming within two feet of her, he stopped.

'Hello.' Roux said, and his throat seemed to double-clutch on him, but before he could clear it to speak he found himself on the ground.

Anouk had jumped onto him, hugging him tightly around the neck. With the force of the attack, Roux had been bowled over onto the ground. He opened his eyes to see Anouk astride him, her eyes filled with tears.

'You came back!' Anouk exclaimed through tears of joy. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed.

Roux took her in his arms and sat up, holding her as tight as he could without breaking her thin frame. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. He felt tears forming in his own eyes followed by a feeling of guilt. How could he leave this girl? He did not know how he had done it. He must have been heartless back then. Smiling, Roux pushed the tears back and looked at her.

'Yes, I did.' He smiled. 'Sorry for the delay.'

Anouk once again pulled herself to him as if it would make up for the lost years. Of course, in reality, nothing would ever make up for them, but all of this was forgotten as the two sat in eachother's arms. Raising her head, Anouk looked Roux in the eyes.

'Apologies don't make it better.' Anouk said, a sudden change in her tone and face as she sat back on her heels.

Silence spanned between them like a bridge that neither of them was willing to cross. The weight in Anouk's words was unimaginable. Anouk wished she could gather the words back up and place them in her mouth again. She should not have said what she just had and knew it. The light faded from her eyes as an oil lamp would if it were running out of fuel. Slow and gradual.

'I know.' Roux said, crossing the bridge of silence. His voice cracked the air like a whip in a silent, desolate landscape. It was a sudden, almost harsh, sound against the quietness between them.

Anouk brushed her hair from her face. It had stuck to her cheek as her salty tears had fallen down her pale skin. She noticed a small stain on Roux's shoulder from her tears. Forcing back a small smile she did not speak. Instead, she stood up and began to walk back into the town centre.

Why she was walking she did not know. Perhaps she would wake up in her room and realise that this was a dream. Just like every other time. She had dreamt of Roux returning many, many times. It was one of those dreams she never wanted to be woken from. Sometimes Anouk awoke and cursed herself for not staying asleep. She had tried to go back to sleep and resume the dream from where she had left off, but it never worked. She always found herself lying in her bed crying from frustration that she could never see Roux again.

She was now running. Anouk had not realised she had quickened her pace. Quickly she collapsed on the steps outside the church. She had never sat there before – in fact she had only been inside the building once or twice. Her head in her hands she closed her eyes to stop the tears. She would wake up soon. She knew she would. In a few moments her mother would call her down from her room and the day would go by as usual. Everything would be as it usually was and the wind would not change.

Tears stung the back of her eyes and she forced them not to come. She silently commanded them to stay behind her eyelids and not surface. She could feel someone's arms around her. She felt safe and secure. Taking her hands away from her eyes, she turned to look up. There he was. The man from her dreams. He was back again.

'I'm dreaming this, aren't I?' she asked Roux as she looked up at him, the tears now freshly pouring down her cheeks.

'No.' Roux replied.

'Prove it.' Anouk said almost desperately. She needed some confirmation that she was not sleeping.

'I can't.' Roux gave a small laugh and wiped the tears from Anouk's cheeks. 'Just believe me. The worst that could happen is you'll wake up and life will be as normal as it was before.'

Standing up, Anouk stepped back from Roux once more. 'Life was never normal after you left us!' the desperation and sadness in her voice made Roux's heart sink.

Anouk's face was a mixture of accusation, sadness and love. It was impossible to distinguish where one emotion ended and the other began.

'When you left us you broke my mother's heart.' Anouk began her voice thick with sadness and frustration. 'She loved you, Roux - she told me almost every night for months. Every night I could hear _Maman _crying herself to sleep. She would wake up saying your name. Some nights she was convinced you had returned and when she woke up and saw you were not beside her, her heart and soul cracked in two.

'Whenever I got a whiff of the hot-chocolate _Maman _makes I thought of you. Whenever I opened the door I saw your face and thought of what could have been only if you'd kept your promise. I wondered what _would_ have happened if you'd stayed. What kind of life we would have. I wondered if you and _Maman _would stay together forever and if we would be a family. I wondered so much, Roux. I never _stopped_ wondering.'

'I know.' Roux said quietly, his eyes cast downwards.

'Is that all you can say?' Anouk demanded. 'I'm not a _child _anymore. You can't satisfy me with two words! Did you ever think of us? Or were you too caught up in your own world?'

Standing up, Roux walked close to Anouk and looked down at her. He walked around her and back again to where he started.

'I thought of you every day.' Roux replied calmly. 'It never stopped. Every woman I met, I thought of your mother. Every young girl had your face – your innocent smile and bright eyes. I wished I could get back to you, but knew that you would hate me for not returning. I imagined your greeting and I knew that you would be like you are now.

'I knew that you would accuse me of leaving and you're right. I _did _leave you and for that I'm more than sorry. Just tell me now. Tell me if you want me and we'll save the heartbreak for both of us. If you want to never see me again, I understand. I can leave.'

Silence.

Anouk could hear her own heart beating. It was an overwhelming sound. If Roux were speaking at this moment, she would not have heard it. The pounding of her heart was the only sound she could hear. Anouk looked up at Roux and met his eyes. She could see tears in them and she smiled slightly. She knew he was sorry, but for some reason Anouk did not find that satisfying. Why was he back? And why had she over-reacted so much? Was it because he had broken her heart or just because she felt he deserved it.

'I don't want you to leave.' Anouk replied softly, her voice cracking. 'I want you to stay – forever. I never _wanted_ you to leave.'

Taking Anouk's hand, Roux began to walk. He did not speak but instead just kept on walking. The church slowly faded into the background and the blue door of the _Chocolaterie _came into view. As soon as Anouk knew what Roux was planning, she halted, pulling the Irishman back with her.

'Don't do this.' Anouk said. 'Not if you plan on leaving us again. It will break _Maman's_ heart more to see you back if you just intend of leaving.'

'I don't intend on leaving.' Roux said simply and resumed his steps towards the _Chocolaterie_ and ultimately Vianne.

As they walked Anouk's thoughts spiralled. He was not leaving? He was back forever? But he was a gypsy, how was that possible? It was in his nature to move as much as he could. If he was lying Anouk knew he mother would never be the same again. Love was a great thing, but sometimes it was dangerous when in the wrong hands. Love was one thing that could not be played with. It was like giving a young boy and china doll and trusting him not to break it. It was something you could not count on and could prove to be something beautiful or something grotesque.

Love was something Anouk had no experience with. At least, not the type of love that her mother felt for Roux. She had never felt that for someone else, but she knew that when she did it would be something special. Her first kiss had been with Luc Clairmont when she was twelve. The two of them, as well as a group of other children from the school, had been playing truth or dare down by the river. It had been an innocent kiss that had meant nothing save for naive exploration and a little embarrassment. The two of them had been jokingly teased for the next week, but it was quickly forgotten as the two of them grew up into young adults. They joked about it now as best friends would.

Anouk watched as Roux's hand reached for the brass door-handle. He slowly opened the door and a small squeak was heard. Roux met Anouk's eyes and smiled. The bell above the door sounded with a slight jingle and a shadow appeared on the wall adjacent to the entryway to the kitchen. Out emerged a woman, her hair up in a red headscarf and slight traces of cocoa on her white apron. Her cheeks were slightly pink from her work.

It happened as if in slow motion. A look of recognition crossed Vianne's face as she looked from the man in front of her to her daughter. Roux was the first to speak.

'I see the door still squeaks.' He said with a smile.

* * *

**Author's Note:**_ Sorry about the constant switching of P.O.V's in the first part of the chapter, but I wanted to get as much emotion into that as possible. I'm not too sure about the whole interaction between Roux and Anouk, though. I think Anouk' s sudden change of mood/attitude might have been a bit sudden, but it seemed to fit. Please, let me know what you think. I promise that the next chapter will be up quicker than this one. Thanks to all who reviewed and please keep doing so!_

_Em. _

_xxx_


	3. Hot Chocolate, Religion and Gypsies

CHAPTER THREE

_Hot Chocolate, Religion and Gypsies._

_Crash!_

The ceramic mug fell to the ground with an almighty shatter. Pieces of it darted in every direction and chocolate smeared the floor as if a rebellious young child had gotten carried away with their finger-painting. The crash had startled Anouk who quickly breathed in and stepped backwards, almost out the door.

Anouk looked at her mother, but she did not look back. Instead, Vianne's eyes were firmly fixed on the eyes of another. A man who stood now in the door frame, the sun shining behind him like he was a delicate idol on the stained glass window of the church.

He might have well of been.

The way Vianne stared at him was enough to convey paragraphs of dialogue in a few seconds. The air could have been sliced with a razor it was so thick of emotion. Nothing was said and it seemed as if the seconds were ticking past in the space of hours. Anouk did not make eye contact with anyone, instead she stared straight ahead at the clock on the wall and watched as the hour hand ticked over once more.

Walking to the corner, Anouk grasped a broom and pan and began sweeping up the pieces of ceramic that was now lying on the ground, broken. It was absurd really. This was one of the most memorable times of her life and she was _cleaning. _The sound the ceramic made against the floor was the loudest thing in the room. Anouk ignored it and continued until all of the pieces were collected. With that she opened the small metal bin next to her and poured the contents of the pan into it.

Upon emptying the pan, she left the room in silence. The only sound left was the soft scuffing of her shoes on the tiles. She walked up the stairs towards her room and left them alone. She could tell that her mother would want to be alone for this. She respected that.

She could not hear the conversation taking place downstairs and did not try to. She could guess the content of it all the same. It would be dramatic. Loving and sad. Something one would read in an old classic novel. Anouk loved the classic stories. She enjoyed the poetic scope of the writing – the way it could transport you from your bedroom to the far reaches of Asia or the royal courts of Britain. Pirate stories. Romances. Tales of war. Horror stories and old legends. They all appealed to her. She loved the characters and felt that if she forgot to read one night she had let them down. Left them in a lurch of emotion. Like suddenly stopping a record in the middle of a song.

Anouk, however, was not much of a writer herself. She sometimes jotted thoughts down in a leather journal her mother had bought her, but did not put her mind to any creative stories. She preferred to sort her _own_ thoughts out on paper as oppose to the thoughts of other made-up characters.

Her ideas were interrupted as she heard the sound of the small bell on the door. It jingled. Someone had arrived. A customer. Quickly, Anouk scurried down the staircase and into the foyer. She heard fragments of the conversation.

"I know. But I can't -"

"Why?"

"Because I-"

Trying to ignore it, Anouk smiled at the young man in the door way. He looked nervous. It was fair, Anouk supposed. She recognised him. He was the new minister's son. He had said he would come back for some chocolate. He was true to his word. What had he said his name was? Trent? No. Theodore. That was it.

Anouk noticed that the conversation between her mother and Roux had ceased. She quickly beckoned Theodore out into the adjacent kitchen. He did as instructed, with a short glance at Roux as he walked. Roux returned the glance with a small smile. Once the young man had caught up with her, Anouk walked into the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked nervously, obviously unsure of what to do with himself.

"Sort-of." Anouk explained. "That man. We haven't seen him in a while. He came back a unannounced."

"Oh. I see." Theodore placed himself awkwardly on a stool across from Anouk. The kitchen bench divided them. "He looked a little...strange."

"He's a gyspy." Anouk replied simply, drawing a pattern in the cocoa dust on the white bench. A star.

"Father says that gypsies are the Devil's work." Theodore said plainly. He sounded like a small child, reciting a poem . Something he had had drilled into him from a young age.

"And do you believe everything your father says?" Anouk inquired, erasing her star with her index finger and looking up at him from behind her dark fringe.

"Mostly." Theodore replied, watching her finger on the marble on the bench. "He's a man of God. He speaks the truth."

"Does he?" Anouk mused, more to herself than to the young man in front of her. "Well, I assure this gypsy is not the Devil's work. My mother loved him once."

Anouk could tell that he was uncomfortable with the subject. He looked awkward in his movements. Anouk wasn't one to shy away from many subjects. She had a wide knowledge of many things. She, like her mother, loved to learn. Loved to meet people and loved to discuss.

"Would you like some chocolate?" Anouk asked, trying to divert the conversation. Religion was an unreliable topic for two people who did not know eachother.

"Please."

Anouk reached for a box of matches and lit the small gas stove below a bowl of now cool, melted chocolate. Slowly the flame grew and she reached for two ceramic cups, hanging above her. Once the chocolate had sufficiently heated, she spooned it into the white mugs. She handed one to Theodore and kept one for herself. Theodore thanked her with the politeness of a well trained child and sipped the drink cautiously.

"So, how long have you and your mother lived here?" He asked, setting the drink down.

"About seven years." Anouk replied, she too placing down the cup. "We like it here."

"I can see why." He nodded. "It's a beautiful town. The people are very nice, too."

Anouk hated small-talk, but continued all the same. "Yes. They are. You'll probably meet more of them when your father holds Mass on Sunday."  
"Will you be attending?" He asked, sipping the drink.

Anouk shook her head. "Mother and I do not attend church. We like the sound of the bells, though. They're lovely."

"I see."

Anouk had said the wrong thing and she could tell. However, she was not going to shy away from her beliefs just to please someone else. If this young man could not accept her and her mother he had no place in the town. The rest of the villagers had accepted them over time and he would do the same.

Silence fell between the two and Thedore cleared his throat nervously. Anouk took note of this and smiled slightly. Before she could speak, Theodore and had stood up from his stool and was straightening his grey jacket.

"I should go." He said. "Father will be wondering where I've got to. I'll be sure to send him around to pay you for the chocolate."

With that Theodore left the room and closed the door behind him. Anouk heard him mutter a slight farewell to her mother and Roux. The bell sounded and the door closed with a slight squeak.

* * *

Vianne rested her chin against her hand. She had been listening to Roux speak. She had slowly drifted in an out of listening. The truth was, she did not want to hear it. Vianne was not a fan of history. She believed that it was best to move on from whatever had happened. History was something that should never be repeated either physically, verbally or even spiritually. It was something one should live after and try not to dwell on. Especially if one's history contained something upsetting. Vianne had learnt her lesson.

Roux had obviously finished speaking. There was no more sound and some quiet conversation could be heard from the kitchen. Vianne looked up at Roux briefly before diverting her eyes. It hurt to look at him. It brought back too many memories.

"Were you listening to me?" he asked, sitting up on the chair.

"Sorry, Roux. I can't do this." Vianne ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

"Do what? Why?"

"I can't do this 'explaining'. I'm not good at it." pause "I can't relive something that happened so long ago. I'm one of those people who likes to deal with things and move on. I don't dwell."

Standing up, Roux walked away from her for a moment and stood at the far wall. Facing it, he leant against it for a moment before turning around.

"You don't _dwell_? Vianne, I'm sorry but I can't believe that. Were you not the woman who carried her mother's ashes with her? If that's not dwelling, Vianne, I don't know what is. All the time I was away I was thinking about you. It never stopped. I'd wake up and turn over to see you beside me, but instead there was just air – nothing – I'd go to sleep and imagine you'd be somewhere else with Anouk. I even wondered if you'd been with another man. If you'd moved; If you'd forgotten about me..."

His voice trailed off for a moment and he leant further against the wall. He almost felt like falling through it – just breaking it and slipping away from the situation he was in. Before he knew it, Vianne was saying something.There were tears in her eyes.

"My mother?" she asked, her voice shaking. "My mother? My mother or her death has nothing to do with this. Can we let her rest in peace, please?" she saw him trying to apologise, but she went on. "Roux, I did think about you. I thought about you every day. I'd sit here staring at the door and every time it opened, hoped for it to be you who walked through the door. I stayed here for that reason; just in case you remembered usand decided to come back."

A single tear fell down her cheek, but Roux did not move. He was about to speak when a young man walked out of the kitchen and out the door. Roux smiled at him briefly.

"Is that? Does Anouk...?" he stared after the boy.  
"No." Vianne shook her head, thankful for a different subject. "He's the son of the new minister._Pere_ Henri left some time ago."

"I see." Roux nodded softly and walked back over to Vianne and sat down on the stool next to her. He placed a hand on the side of her face and smiled for a moment. "I'm going to leave for a while; I have my boat docked by the river. Come there tomorrow morning – first thing – I have a few things I need to tell you."

Yes, you've probably forgotten about me. I've had a lot of shit going on in my life, but I'm back on track. I know this chapter's short, but it's something, isn't it? Thanks for all the supportive reviews, guys. It means a lot.


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